Winter Is a Despicable Demise
Winter is a despicable demise, more fear rises
while the sumptuous moon claims herself queen of the stars;
ghosts stump on the wooden floor their sound terrifies.
Their image glows in shadows shallower than clouds,
they rattle the tiny crib where gorgeous James lies,
" Ah, dark Heavens! It's a nightmare unlike others! "
I glance at the gloomy forest without moonbeams;
the artic wind bends tree tops, stripping them of leaves;
is he angry, or moaning the loss of brightness?
I stare farther, the above firmament frightens:
constellations disappear from these very eyes,
adorned with brilliance, the big moon smiles!
Written on 1/8/2017
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